


Kind of Alright

by shadowofrazia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowofrazia/pseuds/shadowofrazia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, it’s all Freya’s fault. She’s the one who, staring out the window of their flat, turns to Arthur and says, “We should go to the lake.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kind of Alright

Really, it’s all Freya’s fault. She’s the one who, staring out the window of their flat, turns to Arthur and says, “We should go to the lake.”

And with that, she and Arthur are running around, throwing things into a haphazard pile on their living room floor while Merlin sits back at watches. Still, Freya and Arthur sound so excited while planning their trip that when they turn and ask him if he wants to come along, he knows they’ll pull identical wide-eyed pouts at him until he’s guilted into saying yes. He decides to skip the pouts entirely and agrees to go the first time they ask. (Besides, he can’t really argue with the fact their air conditioning has been broken for weeks and, as fun as it is to walk around in as little clothing as possible, the lake would probably be a lot less miserable than sitting in a stiflingly hot flat all day.)

Merlin packs lunch because, despite Arthur’s claiming to be the _responsible one_ of the three and Freya’s being…Freya, he’s really the only one he trusts to pack more than some chips and a packet of marshmallows. He makes peanut butter sandwiches while Freya and Arthur stand behind him, saying _hurry up Merlin_ like they’re a pair of toddlers. He goes slower. Well, until Arthur drags him away from the counter while Freya finishes bagging the sandwiches.

“Why are we taking my car?” Merlin asks as they carry the things down to the car. “Yours is bigger.”

“Mine is also a company car,” Arthur responds. Freya snorts.

“Which means Arthur’s car is too good for getting sand on the seats,” she says quietly to Merlin. Arthur scowls at them over his shoulder. Freya and Merlin beam innocently at him until he rolls his eyes and unlocks the car, muttering something about why he puts up with them.

“It’s because you love us,” Freya says, grabbing Merlin’s free hand and pulling him along to catch up with Arthur.

Freya claims front seat, leaving Merlin to curl in the backseat with the food and the towels and the umbrella and the flippers—Arthur claimed they made him swim faster—and watches Freya flip through the CDs in his glove compartment. It’s not until they pull onto the highway that she settles on a mix CD Gwen had made for him in college. He kicks the back of the seat until Arthur stops singing—wailing. Really, one could easily make an argument for screeching—along to the Mika song that starts playing. Freya laughs in the passenger seat, rolls down the window, and begins to screech along.

By the time they get to the lake, Merlin would be very pleased never to hear that mix again. Arthur pulls down the private drive—this property belonged to his mother before she’d died. Uther had been kind enough to give his son that much—and parks beside the small cabin.  

Arthur gets out first. He always gets out first. Freya and Merlin watch from the car as Arthur walks to the edge of the lake and looks over the water. The lake is calm—the day is too hot and too still to cause even a ripple over the water—and blue and green with the reflection of the trees and the sky. Without thinking, Merlin reaches for Freya’s hand and doesn’t relax until she squeezes and presses a kiss to the back of his hand.

“We should get out of the car,” she says quietly after a moment.  Merlin nods, but neither of them moves until Arthur turns away from the lake.

Freya opens her door and sprints down the beach. Merlin laughs when she jumps on Arthur, sending them both toppling into the water. He drags the umbrella and the food (he leaves the flippers) from the car and sets up on the beach; he’s never been much of a swimmer.

“Merlin!” Freya runs up the beach, flinging sand all over the place as she strips out of her wet clothes to reveal her purple bathing suit. She drops her clothes in a heap beside Merlin and leans over to kiss him. “You should swim with us.”

“Maybe later,” Merlin says, getting comfortable on his towel. “I’m fine here. Just remind Arthur not to be too upset when he realizes his phone is still in his pocket.”

Freya laughs, “I’d like to be on the other side of the planet when that happens.” She kisses him again, longer this time, her wet hair dripping water all over his shirt, and goes back to join Arthur.

Arthur is standing on the dock when she reaches him. He’s looking forlornly at his phone, which appears to be full of water. “My boss is going to kill me. This is the third time this has happened.”

“We can worry about that later,” says Freya, taking the phone from his hands and setting it on top of his wet shirt. “I mean, after last summer, you should know not to—ARTHUR PENDRAGON, YOU PUT ME DOWN!” She kicks against his grip, but really they both know she hasn’t got a chance of getting free as he carries her to the edge of the dock. “Don’t you dare—Arthur!” she screams and a moment later is underwater. 

Before she gets a chance to shout at him—or even properly get the water out of her eyes—Arthur jumps from the dock, splashing water right into her face. She splashes him back. “You complete _arse_!”  

“What?” he asks, grinning innocently. The water plasters his hair to his forehead and he doesn’t seem to mind the water dripping into his eyes. Freya splashes him again and challenges him to a race.

After their first summer of challenging each other to races, the three of them have come to agree Freya’s the best swimmer. Merlin argues it’s because she’d been on the swim team for most of college—and had nearly gone on during university—but Freya says she was born swimming. Still, this hasn’t stopped Arthur challenging her to races every time they’re in a body of water larger than a bathtub.

“Merlin!” She calls to the shore where Merlin’s reading beneath the large beach umbrella. “We need a starter!”

“And a referee!” Arthur adds, like Freya’s the one who’s been grabbing his ankle in the five races they’ve had so far. Freya can practically see Merlin rolling his eyes as he marks his place and walks down the dock.

“We all know Freya’s going to win,” he sighs. “Alright, take your places.”

“I’m going to win this time,” says Arthur confidently. Freya doesn’t even bother to smother her laughter as she swims to her position.

“First one to the dock wins. And no cheating!” Merlin calls out to them. “Ready?”

“Just _call it_!” Freya shouts back. Arthur shushes her.

“Three…two…one…go!”

Merlin likes to watch Freya swim. Honestly, it’s like she’s part fish or something. It’s not that Arthur’s terrible at swimming—he does it once a week to keep in shape—but he’s clearly working at it. Freya looks like she’s barely trying at all.

Freya touches the ladder of the dock first and, for good measure, climbs up to sit beside Merlin’s feet. Arthur climbs onto the dock few moments later, panting and looking rather disgruntled.

“She had a head start,” he says immediately. “There’s no way anyone could swim that quickly.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Arthur,” Freya grins. “You’ll beat me someday. When I’m eighty.”

“Not even then, I don’t think,” Merlin says and, when Arthur pouts, pulls him in for a kiss. It’s a mistake, Merlin realizes when Arthur turns and jumps from the end of the dock.

“Prat!” he shouts, spitting water from his mouth. As Freya and Arthur laugh at him, Merlin begins swimming back to shore. “You two are the worst. I’m going to drink all the wine we brought out of spite.”

“Please don’t, Merlin!” Freya says, diving from the dock and popping up beside Arthur.

And _there_ are the identical pouts.

Merlin sighs. “Fine, but the second one of you tries to drown me or pretends to be the Loch Ness Monster, I _will_ drink all of the wine and dump our sandwiches into the lake.”

“Nessie loves peanut butter sandwiches,” Freya says very seriously while Arthur makes a big deal about this lake _not_ being home to the Loch Ness Monster.

“It’s not even the same country!”

Inevitably, twenty minutes later, Merlin is interrupted from his conversation—kissing, really. It’s very important—with Freya by a hand wrapping around his ankle. He jolts so violently he accidentally kicks Arthur in the chin.

“I told you not to!” He says later when they’ve all decided it’s probably a good time for lunch, even as he carefully examines Arthur’s face. “You’re going to bruise, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, because you have bony feet!” Arthur snaps, though there’s very little heat to his tone. Freya looks on worryingly.

“He did tell you not to,” she says, setting a plate of food on his lap. “At least this way, you can tell everyone you defended our honor at a pub or something.”

“It does sound a lot manlier than ‘I got kicked in the chin by my boyfriend while I was pretending to be the Loch Ness Monster,’” Merlin says. He presses an icepack into Arthur’s hand.

“For the last time, I wasn’t pretending to be the Loch Ness Monster!” Arthur says around a mouthful of sandwich. Merlin and Freya both raise their eyebrows at him until he flushes and looks down. “Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” says Merlin, bumping shoulders with Arthur. Freya slips her sunglasses on and moves out from the shade of the umbrella to eat.

“I like it here. We should stay longer,” she says. “We could have a camp fire and watch the sun set. It’d be romantic.”

“And cold,” Arthur adds.

“Merlin brought warm clothes like he always does.” She laughs at the way Merlin ducks his head. “Didn’t you, Merlin? And I’m sure we left blankets in the cottage last time we were here.”

Arthur looks hesitant. He’s never really been one for camping—or eating outside in the dark. Still, Merlin and Freya are able to gang up on Arthur as easily as Arthur and Freya can gang up on Merlin. And their pouts are even worse; Arthur’s sure they were kittens or baby rabbits in a past life.  

“Okay, fine! God, don’t look at me like that!” His lunch goes flying from his lap when Freya straddles him and peppers his face with kisses. “Freya!” And between the kisses, Arthur manages to  add, “Just know that I refuse to eat peanut butter sandwiches for dinner.”

A few hours later, Freya and Merlin go to the shop in town for dinner. Freya’s tied her hair back into a bun, but that doesn’t stop it from dripping water down the front of her shirt. Merlin stares for a moment and then, when she catches him looking, sheepishly looks away.

“You look nice,” he says.

“No makeup, damp hair, and a wet shirt,” Freya scoffs. “This isn’t my best look, though I may have to steal this shirt from Arthur.” She looks over at him, eyes obscured by her sunglasses, and smiles. “And here I thought you only looked at Arthur like that.”

Merlin knows she’s joking—she’s always joking when she says things like this—but it still kind of hurts to know she’s unsure after all these months. He doesn’t know how to explain this without sounding like an idiot, so he settles for leaning over the gearstick to kiss her. She makes a surprised sound—of the three of them, he’s usually the least likely to kiss in public—but relaxes into the kiss. She tangles her fingers in the back of Merlin’s shirt and _grips_ like she’s afraid to let go. They pull away, breathing heavily, and Freya laughs quietly into Merlin’s shoulder.

“What was that for?” she asks.

“You know I love you, right? We both do,” he says. “We wouldn’t be the same without you, Freya.”

Freya nods, kisses Merlin again, and then gets out of the car. Merlin sees her wipe at her eyes, but when she turns to urge him from the car, she’s as happy as she’d been before.

Shopping for the three of them has always been a bit complicated. Arthur’s picky about vegetables, but rather enjoys most (every) kinds of meat; Merlin has an allergy to shellfish, and avoids all seafood on principle; and Freya’s vegan. She goes straight to the vegetables while he pokes around the fish.

“Do you think Arthur would be too upset if we just had vegetables tonight?” he asks. Freya walks over and peers into the bucket.

“I’d be pleased,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “That stuff smells awful. We could always repay him with sex.”

Merlin laughs and follows her back over to the vegetables. “He liked that aubergine recipe you made a while back. The spicy one?” They exchange glances and Merlin adds, “Maybe we’ll get some of that scotch he likes tomorrow.”

“Good plan.”

When they get back, Arthur’s hung the towels and their wet clothes on the line beside the cottage. He’s nowhere to be seen however, so Merlin and Freya carry the food in and begin cooking.  They don’t find Arthur until after they’ve made dinner. Freya changes into a pair of Merlin’s pajama bottoms and Arthur’s sweaters before she helps Merlin carry the food out to where Arthur’s poking the fire with a long stick.

“You alright?”  Merlin asks him. Arthur looks away from the flames.

“Just thinking,” Arthur responds quietly, shifting over so Freya can sit between him and Merlin. She kisses his cheek and Arthur smiles a bit. “Do you think my mum would be happy for us?”

“I think,” Merlin says, “she’d be happy you’re happy.”

“Hm,” Freya agrees. “And we’d probably get on like a house on fire; she’d show us your baby photos and tell us embarrassing stories until we couldn’t stop laughing.”

“If you wanted embarrassing stories, you could always go to Morgana,” Arthur snorts, but his shoulders relax a bit and he stops stabbing at the fire long enough to look at his plate. “This is what I get for loving a vegan, isn’t it?”

“God, it’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Merlin says fondly, sending the three of them into helpless giggles as the brief tension around them breaks.

“We should do this more often,” Arthur murmurs later once they’ve piled into the too-small bed in the cottage. Merlin feels Freya curled against his side and Arthur’s heart beating under his ear and thinks _yeah, this is kind of alright._

 

 


End file.
